


Clouded With You

by Yulicia



Category: Final Fantasy XIV
Genre: Getting Together, M/M, Pining, Pre-Relationship, So much pining..., shadowbringers
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-16
Updated: 2020-09-16
Packaged: 2021-03-06 23:21:40
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,839
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26487097
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Yulicia/pseuds/Yulicia
Summary: Feelings were a lot. They were even worse when the object and target of one’s affections was Urianger.
Relationships: Urianger Augurelt/Thancred Waters
Comments: 5
Kudos: 91





	Clouded With You

**Author's Note:**

> the original title for this was ‘feelings, thancred? pretty cringe’ and think that’s all you need to know

Thancred had a problem.

Not a  _ big _ problem, mind you, but a little one. A small issue. A tiny conundrum. He had the most minor of issues to contend with, a trouble that was a mere inconvenience at best… and that was completely and utterly a lie. 

In truth Thancred’s problem was big enough to rival a God, a struggle as great as a fight against a Primal. It certainly felt like a great battle, this constant…  _ broiling….  _ in his chest. The fizziness of his stomach. The cloudiness of his thoughts. 

He was in love. This in and of itself did not have to pose a problem (he of all people was well versed in the woes of the heart) but it was not the basic premise of infatuation that bothered him, but the specifics. Not the what, but the  _ who.  _

Thancred Waters was head-over-heels, absolutely smitten, devilishly devoted… to  _ Urianger.  _

Urianger! Of all the people his heart could have chosen as the target of his affections it had chosen  _ Urianger! _ It was unfair, frankly, for his own body to betray him like this. 

But how could he not be? How could he not lose himself to that voice, no matter the words it said. Though he complained of Urianger’s long-winded prose he was silently grateful for it, for it let him hear him longer. How could he not want to run his hands through his soft hair, or run fingers along his smooth skin, so long as to commit his entire form to memory? Is it not natural to see light behold his eyes, a spectacle that shone so brightly within him that their glow was rival to that of the stars he so preciously coveted? 

Oh, Twelve preserve he had it bad. 

He didn’t quite remember when he had started feeling this way. He knows that these last few years have been something of a blur but he does wonder now if his heart had always sang this tune, even back in the Source. Everything felt faster here in the First, more intense and more vibrant, and he wonders if he did not grow to love the Elezen here and instead something buried had simply been… awakened. 

He doesn’t remember when it started, but he does remember when he noticed. It must have been some months ago - perhaps even years - now, the last time they had met in the Crystarium. Urianger had been explaining his plans to journey to Il Mheg, and Thancred had noticed himself hanging on his every word. He could feel himself becoming entranced, as though Urianger himself was an unspeakable Primal. Thancred almost wished it were that simple. Miraculously falling to a Primal’s will would be a lot less embarrassing than the truth of admitting he had a crush. 

And the worst part about it is he didn’t know what to  _ do  _ with all of these feelings, all of these thoughts. Thancred, masterful seducer and overflowing with charm, was at a loss. Romance had always been something of a game to him; a trick of manipulation. If the pretty girl who had caught his eye was unreceptive all he was left with was bruised ego rather than a broken heart. There was always the promise of a second chance in his old dance and plenty more opportunities to pursue, but here there was only one. Urianger was singular, and he would not have a second chance at this. He’d never had to use his wiles on someone he - dread filled him -  _ cared  _ about losing. This was uncharted territory. It was, frankly, terrifying. 

Besides, how would one even begin  _ woo _ a being such as Urianger? He was certainly old-fashioned, would he like roses? Poems? A song and verse dedicated to his beauty? No, no these were all terrible ideas. Absolutely dreadful. He’d seen the colour he’d gone around Moenbryda’s flirting. No, Urianger was un-wooable. 

“Is there something amiss?” 

Thancred blinked, his world coming back into focus. Urianger was staring at him as though waiting for an answer to a previous question Thancred hadn’t heard. 

“Hm?” Thancred replied. 

Thancred looked around, suddenly returned to reality. They were in Urianger’s place in Il Mheg, surrounded by his endless tomes. They had been discussing the issue of this area’s Lightwarden while Minfilia and the Warrior of Light (or, he supposed, this world’s Warrior of Darkness) explored the grounds outside. 

“I posed a question to thee, yet in turn found little in way of reply.” 

Thancred sucked in a sudden sharp breath. “Apologies. My mind was elsewhere.”

Urianger frowned. “Is thoust troubled by an ill fortune? ‘Tis unlike thee to forgo a retort.”

Thancred was certainly troubled by something. He just hadn’t decided on if this particular spot of luck was “ill” or not. 

Urianger continued, “Among our unfortunate circumstances t’would be nary few souls who would blame thee for a slip of concentration. Thou is like to blame thyself for such a slip, yet I implore thee to allow a moment of forgiveness.” 

Thancred’s mouth hung open. “Thank you, but your concern is unnecessary.” 

“Then apologies for mine own baseless assumption and, in turn, mine overbearing concern.” 

Thancred shook his head. “It’s nothing. My distraction is simply personal, and nothing to concern yourself with.”

Urianger raised a brow. “Thou referest to our Minfilia?”

Thancred felt a headache coming on. He could feel Urianger’s curiosity growing from here. If he didn’t nip this in the bud as soon as he could Urianger was not one to leave a mystery unsolved. 

He shook his head. “It’s not about Minfilia. It’s not an issue you need to be concerned with, promise.” 

“I must needs disagree. I calleth to mind one pressing issue: distraction. If thine is to become distracted in far more dangerous climates than this room it could spell death not only for thee, but for thine unwitting companion.”

“Twelve preserve,” Thancred swore under his breath. Urianger really was not one to leave well alone. He almost briefly considered confession right here and now to stop his pestering. 

… He supposed he  _ could _ just tell him. It would solve this strange argument in a heartbeat. Not only that, but if Urianger was, as he concluded, “un-wooable”, then does it not stand to reason that the best course of action was not of a floral and lyrical nature, and was instead simply direct? 

He paused, caught in a loop of conundrums once more. On one hand he may very well be spelling the doom of their friendship with this, but on the other hand… on that hand lay endless possibilities. 

He was going to tell him. 

“Urianger.”

Urianger still had that curious look on his face, the one mixed with not a small amount of smug self-righteousness. “Aye?”

“I think I’m in love with you.”

Thancred felt the effect of his words almost immediately. Instantaneous regret ran up his spine and he felt his ears growing hot. 

Urianger said nothing and only stared, his mouth agape. He was tense, frozen as if time had stood completely still. For once Thancred had managed to leave him speechless, but he wasn’t sure if this was quite the victory it should have been. 

Finally, Urianger spoke. “Is thine certain?” His voice was low, soft, and just quiet enough that it was clear the words were only meant for Thancred.

Thancred had never been more certain of anything in his life. 

He nodded. 

Slowly, Urianger stood from his chair, turning so that all Thancred could see was his back. Dread filled Thancred’s gut like lead. He watched Urianger’s hand come to press against his mouth, though he would quite see what he was doing. 

When Urianger turned back around his expression was unreadable, wide-eyed and soft-featured. A finger traced absently along the side of his beard. There was a stroke of movement, a foot stepped forward, then Thancred felt lips upon his and his heart nearly jumped out of his chest. 

He barely had time to register exactly what was happening, and he certainly could hardly comprehend it over the roar of relief rushing through him. Urianger had kissed him. Urianger  _ is _ kissing  _ him.  _ He felt he had to repeat the thought over and over, just to be sure he wasn’t dreaming. 

Urianger wasn’t the best at this - all tense and caste and uncertain - but Thancred didn’t care. He couldn’t find it within himself to care about anything but the softness of those lips against his, the smell of Urianger’s perfumed skin - he smelled of open skies and pixie dust and the lakes of Il Mheg. It was distinct; a bottled scent from the fae themselves, Thancred was sure - perhaps it had been a gift. His mind, however, was filled little with the thoughts of fairies and fae. 

Stress poured from him like blood from an open wound, bleeding from him in a great flood. Thancred had gazed into one thousand eyes, held one thousand hands, kissed innumerable lips and yet not one of them drew such a euphoric and overwhelming calm from him. He felt fuzzy all over, a tingling running all the way up his spine and down to the very tips of his fingers.

His brain paused his endless stream of blooming joy for just long enough for him to register that he should probably move his hand. He brought his hand up to lay against Urianger’s cheek, this touch maddenly gentle. It drew a small, contented sigh from Urianger and the sound made Thancred feel like he was going to burst. 

He didn’t ever want to pull away, yet the laws of biology ceded that the human body does, eventually, need to breathe. 

When he pulled back he could hardly believe his eyes. Here was the lovesick expression he was sure he’d been carrying, mirrored upon Urianger’s own brow, and caused by  _ him. _

“You…” Thancred started, before cutting himself off before the roughness of his voice could continue. He cleared his throat. “I’ll confess I didn’t think that would work.”

“And why would it not?” 

Thancred laughed at the earnestness of the question. “Nevermind. I suppose I should be grateful to skip the flowers.” Thancred paused. “Unless you want them…?”

Urianger’s lips were bright with an easy smile. “Thine old habits are proving hard to break I see.” 

“And what’s that supposed to mean?!”

Urianger laughed to himself. Smug bastard. “Naught to concern thyself with. However, I would be amenable to such accommodations should thee find the need within thyself.” 

“Flowers, got it. Anything else?”

Urianger shrugged. “Thine touch once more, mayhaps? And thine pleasant company, of course.”

Thancred felt his chest grow warm. “That will be yours for so long as you want it.”

_ For as long as you want  _ me. 

Urianger flicked an idle finger along one of his tarot cards lying against the table. “I forsee that want proceeding for quite some time,” he said, his voice barely above a whisper. 

“I should have known you’d be a sap.” 

And he really wouldn’t want him any other way. 


End file.
